


Into Battle

by ViolettaValery



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Fix-It, Getting Back Together, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-27
Updated: 2019-04-27
Packaged: 2020-02-07 06:30:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18615052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ViolettaValery/pseuds/ViolettaValery
Summary: After ten years, it's Alex's turn to fight for them.A fix-it fic for 1x13.





	Into Battle

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is pretty much a catharsis to make me feel better about everything that happened in 113. I'm especially unhappy with Maria and her choices, so having Alex give her a piece of his mind was such a relief to write. 
> 
> I'm also so, so proud of Alex and how far he's come this season. He's finally learned to be his own man, and he's done walking away. He's ready to fight for his and Michael's relationship, and I wanted to write him doing that - fighting - rather than sadly and painfully pining and accepting Michael & Maria.

When Michael shows up at the junkyard hours later than he was supposed to, a smudge of Maria’s lipstick on his lips, everything becomes crystal clear to Alex.

There is a part of him that wants to yell, and a part of him that wants to flee. But instead, he plants himself like a tree.

Their eyes meet, and Alex can tell that Michael knows that he _knows._

Neither of them say anything for several moments, and Alex’s urge to flee gets stronger.

He shoves it away. He’s looked death in the face. He’s spent a decade fighting the battles of others. But this time, he’s fighting for the thing that matters, and he’s not going to flee from the most important fight of his life.

 _Into battle,_ he thinks, and plunges forward.

 “I told you, I’m done walking away,” he says, letting it be the accusation he wants to throw in Michael’s face.

Michael snorts.

“Yeah, the last time you said that, I told you every single one of my secrets, gave you the means to destroy me, and then you got the Hell out of dodge.”

“Because you told me you were going to leave the _planet!_ ” He really had thought Michael understood, but, in retrospect, he realizes that his flustered explanations regarding a snowstorm sounded like just as pale of an excuse as copper wire.

“That’s rich, coming from you,” Michael retorts without missing a beat. “You spent ten years leaving, and now you’re upset that I’ve decided it’s my turn?”

“So you’re moving on? With Maria? Does _she_ know you’re planning to literally take off?”  

Michael has the decency to look ashamed.

“Do you love her?” Alex asks after another pause.

Michael shrugs. “I don’t know. Not the way I love you. Hell, I could never love anyone the way I love you. But with her, it doesn’t _hurt._ I’ve spent ten years fighting for this thing, and I’m just so tired of it _hurting,_ Alex.”  

“I know,” he agrees. “I’ve hurt you, unspeakably. But I meant it when I said I’m tired of fighting someone else’s battles. You’ve been fighting for _us_ for ten years. Now it’s my turn to fight, for you and for us.”

Michael just looks at him, broken.

“Don’t. Please,” he croaks. “You – you tell me everything I want to hear, and I take you back, and then you walk away and you take a piece of my heart with you every time you do.” His voice is raw, his eyes brimming with unshed tears. “I can’t do it anymore, Alex. I don’t have that many more pieces of my heart left to give.”

Alex takes a step forward.

“I’m not leaving this time. I know you don’t have a reason to believe that, and I’m not asking you to trust me, Michael.” He deliberately uses his first name, and sees the moment that registers in Michael’s eyes. “I’m asking you to give me a chance to earn your trust. To prove you that this time, I’m staying.”

“I don’t know if I can do that, right now,” Michael admits, and it feels like he’s carving Alex’s heart out of his chest. “I need – time. After your dad, Noah, Caulfield, everything just _hurts._ I need space.”

“With Maria?” he asks, as the ache in his chest deepens.

“No, not with Maria. Just – I need space.”

That, at least, Alex understands.

“I’ll wait for you,” he promises. “For as long as you need. I’ll be here, I swear.” Michael waited for him for _ten years._ He hopes he doesn’t have to wait as long, but he knows that he owes Michael a few months at the very least.

Michael nods, though Alex can tell he doesn’t entirely believe him.

“And Guerin?”  

“Yeah?”

“When you’re ready – there’s something I need to tell you. But I don’t think either of us is ready for that conversation right now. I just – when we have that talk, I want you to know it’s not a secret I was keeping from you.”

Michael just nods again and disappears into his Airstream.

….

“Alex.” That’s all Maria says when she sees him as he walks into the Wild Pony. She looks uncharacteristically uncertain, like she’s awaiting a death sentence, as she fiddles with a dish towel.

Some other version of him might have felt pity at that, but he’d meant it when he said he left nice in the Middle East. He doesn’t hold back.

“How could you?” he demands.

“He told me it was over between you two!” Maria tries, but it decidedly lacks conviction.

“Some psychic you are,” he throws at her, and when she says nothing, he plows on. “You know I’ve loved him for a decade. You know who he is to me. You _knew_ I was hopeful, you said it yourself, you _felt_ it. And you couldn’t even talk to me before you kissed him behind my back?”

Maria looks suitably ashamed, and a small part of Alex wants to forgive her then and then.

The rest of him seethes with fury.

 “Alex, I’m so- “ she begins.

“Save it,” he snaps.

“If it makes you feel any better, it lasted all of five minutes before he ended it.”

“It doesn’t.”

He lets the door slam on the way out.

One day, maybe they’ll find their way back to their friendship. But right now, he doesn’t see the friend who told him that home can be a person. He just sees the person who tried to take that home from him.  

….

Alex waits.

Michael moves in with Isobel. After Noah, her home is nothing but bad memories, too large and empty for one person, and Michael takes up the guest room, filling it with his usual light and love. When Alex sees Isobel, she looks happier, slowly coming back to her old self. He’s not surprised: Michael selflessly brings light to the life of everyone he touches, even while his own remains shrouded in darkness.  

He wishes he could be Michael’s light.

…..

Three months later, he gets a text.

_You home?_

_Yes._

_Can we talk?_

_Of course._

Michael is at his door twenty minutes later. He looks – better. He’s no longer the haunted man he’d driven away from Caulfield with, nor the empty shell he saw in the junkyard the next day. But the look of uncertainty is the same, a puppy waiting to be kicked to the curb. “I – “ he begins before trailing off.

 “You wanted to talk,” Alex supplies, opening the door to beckon him in. Michael steps in gingerly. Once inside, he clears his throat and shuffles from side to side, and a fond memory comes unbidden to Alex’s mind of another Michael, equally uncertain. Though that one was much more hopeful than the broken man before him now.

“You said you’d wait,” Michael begins tentatively, as if expecting Alex to contradict him.

Alex’s heart breaks all over again. _He_ did that.

“I did. I am.”

“I think I’m ready,” Michael says, his expression resembling what Alex thinks he must’ve looked like the first time he jumped out of a plane. “To give it a try, anyway.”

“Okay,” he agrees. He takes Michael’s hand in his, feeling like he’s coaxing a skittish animal. “I know I have to earn your trust. And I swear to you, I will.”

Michael nods, a tentative smile spreading over his features.

“But first,” he continues, and is unsurprised to see panic flash in Michael’s eyes, “do you remember when I said there’s something we needed to talk about?”

Michael’s “yes” is a wary one.

“I have something that belongs to you.” He fetches the backpack where he still keeps _it,_ takes a deep breath, hands Michael the last piece of his ship. Then he watches as surprise, then confusion, and pain and fear and rejection flit across his face, just as he expected.

“Michael,” he says, and the use of his name brings Michael’s attention back to him. “Listen to me. This isn’t me telling you to leave. I want you to stay. But I know you’ve wanted to leave for a decade, and the choice should be yours. If you stay, I swear I will too. But,” he takes a deep breath, deciding that it’s his turn to fling himself off a cliff. To flay himself open, as Michael has done so often, and let the man he loves decide. “After all the times I’ve left you, the choice should be yours. Completely. Even if you leaving will destroy me.”

Michael exhales shakily as he traces the symbols on the alien metal, which light up at his touch. His eyes flit between Alex’s face and the unearthly artifact in his hands.

“If I stay, will you?”

“Yes,” Alex says patiently. He knows he’ll have to repeat it many times before Michael believes him. “I swear, one day you’ll believe me when I say that.”

 

_Ten Years Later_

When Michael wakes up, the other side of the bed is empty, and, when he reaches over, cold, although it’s a Saturday and Alex doesn’t have to be at work.

He rolls over and smiles as he stretches. He hopes Alex is making his churro pancakes (a recipe he got from Liz). His favorites.

And, sure enough, when he wanders into the kitchen, still bleary-eyed and wearing one of Alex’s sweatshirts, there’s a neat pile of pancakes and enough sugar and syrup to induce diabetes.

“Good morning,” Alex greets him. _He’s_ wearing one of Michael’s sweatshirts, and it never ceases to be a sight for sore eyes.  

“Good morning,” he agrees, tasting powdered sugar on Alex’s lips as he kisses him.

 


End file.
